


Detroit: Care less

by wrelicofwren



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Conversations, Bisexual Disasters, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, Musical References, Teenage Drama, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrelicofwren/pseuds/wrelicofwren
Summary: AKA Anxious teen takes weird internet drugs to get smooched.Connor Anderson is an average (loser) kid with a quirky (geek) best friend, and a serious (near-fatal) crush on his mind.But never fear! His new Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor (SQUIP), Amanda, is going to improve his life!No matter what it takes! No matter what...This is a Be More Chill AU, it's not serious.





	1. Act ONE: Scene One - More Than Survive

**Author's Note:**

> So. Welcome to this shit-show! If you've read the book (I haven't) or seen the musical (I have) then this will be very familiar! If not you should still be able to enjoy this! 
> 
> North's last name Shapiro is taken from 'i have loved you so long' a fic by estora! *waves to the camera*
> 
> This intro is very similar to the play, but I have extra scenes plotted out and because I have more characters. Eh. Enjoy.

“Come on. Come on, _go_!”

Friday morning, 7:35AM. Connor was about to reach his limit with his goddamn, slow-ass, wifi connection. His video was stuck about 4 minutes into loading, and if he didn’t get to see at least one of these guys getting sucked off then he’d just wasted his morning and - oh god, why did he even bother? Frustrated, he slipped his hand out of his boxer-briefs and slammed the lid closed on his laptop.

He then gently opened it again to _close_ the porn window. The last thing he needed was his dad to go snooping and find anything. Crap, he didn’t even have time to take a cold shower. He’d showered the night before to save time but he didn’t have an erection the night before so that what good would that do him now? Fine, whatever. This was all great! It’s not like he was super uncomfortable slipping into his jeans half-hard, stumbling into the bathroom to brush his teeth and put on deodorant. His hair in the mirror was a tangled mess of curly bed head that he gave up on before trying, and just as he lifted his shirt to check for any ab development - any at all - his dad entered. 

Pantless and hungover.

“Jeez Dad, a little privacy!” Connor strained, folding his arms across his ab-less stomach and trying not to curl into a ball of embarrassment before he’s even left the house.

Hank mostly ignored his self-consciousness, rounding to the toilet to relieve himself of his late night whiskey.

“We’re all men here, kid. Just pretend it’s a locker room.”

Well, Connor didn’t hate gym class only because of the sweat and jock jokes at his expense. But he wasn’t going to get into it, he still had to figure out whether he was hoofing it to school and risking armpit stench following him all day, or taking the bus like all the freshmen and sophomores incapable of driving.

“Did you take Cole to carpool pickup like that?” 

Hank grunted, “I tied up the robe.”

“Dad, can you please just have pants on when I get back?” Connor doesn’t have the energy to beg, so it comes out more exasperated than he really meant it to.

Hank gave him a half-hearted salute on his way out, and Connor sighed as he grabbed his schoolbag, wishing he could just take the car to school. He was 17, he had his license! So what if his dad’s car looked a little beat-up on the outside, it was better than the big nothing he had right now. Sumo lumbered up to him as he got to the living room, and Connor gave him many ‘good morning’ pats because he was _such a good boy! Oh yes he was!_

“Don’t let Dad stay inside today, Sumo. Make him take you for a long walk.”

“Broof!” answered the panting Saint Bernard.

“I expect a full report when I get home okay?” Sumo answered by taking a long swipe across his face with his doggy tongue, knocking his glasses up into his hairline. “Good boy,” he mumbled, wiping down with his jacket sleeve. Hopefully the dog-breath wouldn’t linger on his face.

Outside of his front door, Connor felt the indecisive dread well up again and reached into this jacket for his favourite silver dollar. Fidgeting with it as he saw the bus rounding the corner, he left it up to chance.

 ** _ >Take the bus_** \- get to school on time in (dis)comfort, look like a loser with no car.

 ** _ >Walk_** \- don’t look like a stooge without a car, look like a loser, but sweaty.

He flipped the coin.

The bus. Connor sighed and moved to the sidewalk, raking a hand through his hair and trying not to yelp as it got caught on his wristwatch. 

Maybe next week he’d be better at surviving his own life, but he didn’t have much hope for today.

One uneventful bus ride later, Connor hunched his shoulders as he navigated through New Jericho High School’s halls, careful not to make eye contact with anyone for more than a millisecond. If he wanted to, he could walk through this place blindfolded, but he settled on staring at his shoes and getting to his locker.

“So according to Rosanna Cartland, Elijah told Traci that he’d have sex with her if she beat him at pool. And then he lost at pool. _Deliberately_.” Chloe Guerrero, the most popular girl in junior year, was retelling a story to two other people while applying peach-tinted lip balm.

Right next to his locker. Connor froze, fearing his own death if he got too close to one of the hottest girls in school. Chloe had been dating Elijah Kamski over the summer, but they’d broken up about a month ago. Clearly, she was still upset about it.

“That’s so clever,” Daniel Phillips mused, shoving his backpack into his own locker and fiddling with a fuzzy pencil case and matching book cover that likely belonged to Chloe. Daniel had been Chloe’s shadow for the past year, and Connor had no idea of his personality aside from that. Silence from Chloe made Daniel look up, and he quickly backtracked upon seeing her icy stare directed at him and not the compact mirror in her hand, “I mean, nauseating!” 

The final person, school gossip Rosanna Cartland, tried to interject, “And then, Traci was like-”

“Do I look finished, Rosanna?” Chole turned to the blonde just behind her, and finally caught sight of Connor looking their way. She frowned at him impassively, promptly hooking her arm with Daniel’s and steering him away. Rosanna trailed behind them, and Connor sighed, feeling just a bit more shame from some unexplained place.

That’s what he got for looking at people, he guessed. Whatever. One, two, three steps to his locker and-

“Watch it, tall-ass!” Why did he even try? 

Of all people, he’d literally bumped into Gavin Reed, the 5’9 terror that plagued his Monday to Friday from 8:00AM until 2:55PM. And some weekends at the mall, if he was really unlucky.

Side-stepping without looking at him, Connor made a vague gesture towards the wall. “S-sorry! I was just... going to my-” 

“Shut up,” Gavin, who was very strong for his shorter stature, spun Connor around, shoving him face first into the wall of lockers. Connor felt an odd, moving pressure against his backpack while Gavin cackled behind him. What was he doing? Gavin leaned in beside him, “Wash that off, and you’re dead,” and pushed Connor against the metal once more for good measure. Even though Gavin had let him go, Connor was glued, stuck on the precipice of a panic attack before class had even begun. 

Breathe. In. Out. Slow in. Slow out. 

“Gavin, you’re such a brute,” Elijah Kamski chastised halfheartedly from behind Connor, but he didn’t make more of an effort than that. Elijah was a rich kid whose grandfather founded the Thirium Soda Company back in the 1960’s, and their family had been reaping the benefits ever since. Rumors said that Elijah used to go to a fancy prep school, but got kicked out for severe misconduct so his parents punished him by sending him to New Jericho. 

Personally, Connor didn’t think it was doing much to make him a better human being.

In. Out.

“Come off it, Eli. Hey, what’s the story with you and Traci?” Gavin was a little further away now, obviously having gone to catch up with Elijah. 

Elijah chuckled knowingly, and Connor peeled himself off of his locker in time to see him lean a brotherly arm on Gavin’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just a terrible pool player.” A smirk lifted his lips, and Connor watched as the two disappeared deeper into the school building. 

Five minutes until first period. Five minutes until Connor wouldn’t feel like erasing himself from existence. 

English Literature and Calculus textbooks secure in his bag, he waded through the meandering students, only pausing to glance at the nearing cork-board. 

There was a new sheet among the tutoring posters and sports team propaganda; a sign-up for the after-school play.

Connor liked theatre, he enjoyed the drama of it all. In middle school, he’d actually been cast as Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk and the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. 

His mother had said he was very good! 

Then his parents made him and his little brother the children of a quiet divorce. 

Then he’d grown gangly and awkward during puberty. 

And suddenly, being stared at, bared open on stage wasn’t ideal anymore. He still went to see all of the productions the school put on, but sometimes he wished…

If he could just...

No. No time for dreaming. Connor ignored the sheet, rounding the final corner to a now nearly deserted hallway, and felt his breath catch in his lungs.

Markus Manfred.

Standing at the water fountain, filling a water bottle and bopping his head to a song that could only match the rhythm of Connor’s heart, was Markus Manfred. The blue-and-green eyed adonis that stalked the halls of his mind for the past year at least. Markus had been the lead actor for the last two plays and god...

If Connor had always loved theatre, then when Markus had transferred to their school, his love for theatre grew twice over. Markus was amazing on stage and had a thousand megawatt smile that could make angels weep with its beauty. 

But Markus also was 110% out of his league. Top-tier unattainable. The most Connor had ever said to him was, “There’s a vending machine around the corner,” and even that had been a painfully stuttered mess. Connor had to walk by him to get to class, so when Markus lifted the bottle to take a drink - _Holy shit, how could someone look so hot just drinking water? Look at his arm muscles, how the fuck? Sleeveless hoodies should be illegal_ \- he made a break for it. 

Eyes down. Left foot, right foot, left-

“Excuse me?” said a deep tenor behind him. Connor turned, disbelief making his eyes wide behind his glasses. No way was Markus talking to him. But he was, looking directly at Connor. Like it was _normal_.

“Yeah?” 

Shit, was he about to break into a sweat just watching a man wipe his mouth?

Markus took an aborted step, adjusting his bag higher on his back and looking at Connor with a measure of confused concern. “I think someone wrote... girlf on your backpack?”

...What?

Connor swung his bag around to take a look. Right there, in block letters across the front of his bag. G I R L F. When did that even happen?

Gavin...

“I, um,” Connor gave an uncomfortable little laugh, took one step away, and bolted for the safety of class. 

Fuck. Now, Markus had seen whatever this was, whatever joke Gavin was playing on him. The embarrassment of having him witness at least part of his daily torment made his eyes burn hot. He wanted to scream, or maybe cry. Even more, the thoughts of what he could have - _should have_ said to Markus instead of running away like a complete weirdo plagued him all the way to the lunch line. 

Even ‘Free Pizza Friday’ couldn’t lift his spirits, his single slice of margherita lying limp on school-standard blue lunch tray, next to a bottle of apple juice. He accepted his side-salad with mumbled thanks, scanning the cafeteria for a friendly face to sit with. 

“Connor!” He finally spotted the platinum blonde hair and decorated red hoodie he was looking for, and bee-lined to his best (only) friend, Kara Williams. Kara’s aesthetic was very much retro video games and 90’s vintage, which she wore proudly in space invader and pac-man patches all over her clothes. Those, along with a few other patches representing causes she felt like speaking out about like racism, LGBTQI rights and equality, told people about who she was before she ever had to speak, according to her. 

Since the age of five, Kara had been the Simon to his Garfunkel, the Mario to his Luigi, the Scully to his Mulder - He wasn’t sure he would have survived this long without her at his side. 

Kara grinned over at him as he sat down across from her, lips stained blue by the tall slushy in her hands. “How’s it hanging?” 

“You shouldn’t drink that so often,” Connor said, picking through his salad with palpable melancholy.

Kara pouted around her chopsticks, a negimaki roll having disappeared in her mouth moments before. “The guy at 7-Eleven is heavy with his pours. He’s nice to me.” The sticks were suddenly turned on him, pointed at his nose in accusation. “You look miserable.”

“I hate this school,” he answered around a baby tomato.

“What’s wrong?” she sighed. Connor presented his backpack, in all its GIRLF glory. Kara made an ‘o’ with her lips, reaching under the table and providing her own pack for the showcase. The letters RIENDS were written in a similar thick black marker across her bag.

RIENDSGIRLF?

Kara swapped their bags around.

GIRLFRIENDS.

“Great.” Connor rolled his eyes, rubbing his fingers over the canvas of Kara’s bag and willing the letters to disappear. Bad enough that Gavin made him his prime target but he hated when Kara got roped into his ‘pranks’. Kara took it in stride, taking her property out of Connor’s hands.

“Connor, leave it. It’s fine. Was this Gavin?” At his confused look, she continued, “I didn’t see who did it, but it reeks of Reed. He’ll get his one day. Trust me, karma’s a bitch.” 

They fell into a companionable silence not long after, each trying to finish their lunch surround by the din of the lunch hall. And then Connor remembered that- “Markus spoke to me today.”

Kara paused in wide-eyed surprise, the final dregs of her drink all but forgotten as she gave Connor her full attention. “That’s great! What’d you say?”

“I ran away.”

Her perkiness deflated slightly and her smile turned more sympathetic, everything that Connor and his anxiety didn’t need. “Oh... kay well. That’s _something_.”

Or, in other words, he fucked up the first opportunity he had this semester. Good job! Connor’s head dropped to the table with a soft thud, and he thumped it down one more time for good measure. “I’m such a loser.”

A gentle hand began petting the fluff of his hair, “You know, I read that humanity has stopped evolving.”

Connor almost smiled against the table at the sudden topic change, but didn’t attempt to move from his new favourite spot at rock bottom. “That doesn’t sound right, but okay? So?”

“So! Evolution has effectively been overtaken by technology, removing the need for survival of the fittest. Statistically, it’s never been a better time to be a loser!”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Connor lifted his face away from the table, pillowing his chin on folded arms. “Is that meant to make me feel better?”

Kara shrugged, munching on a sugar pea. “I tried.” This time, when Connor to hide away his arms, Kara had a hand out ready to stop him. “You’re having a bad day, I understand. How about I come over later? We can fight some zombies in Apocalypse of the - Oh, Manfred at 6 o’clock.”

Connor was upright in a flash, almost knocking his tray off the table in his haste to turn and spot Markus. There he was, on the near opposite side of the cafeteria, looking just as handsome as he had 3.5 hours before. Markus appeared to be having an animated conversation (argument?) with North Shapiro, brandishing a pen between them like a weapon while Josh Miller and Simon Phillips watched on in amusement. 

Connor had known North when they were children, loosely. They’d talk about nothing important and play simple games while her mother would chat with the Rabbi, but their paths never intersected much after that. Probably for the better. She became beautiful and athletic to the point that Kara had once stated, “She could throw me in the trash any day and I’d say, ‘Thank you’,” and Connor was inclined to agree. 

Especially after he’d seen North as Juliet, opposite Markus’ Romeo in the last play. The vulnerability and ultimately the strength she’d portrayed had been amazing to watch. How could he ever forget the way his heart had been systematically broken over the course of an hour and a half, looking at Markus profess his love for her with such passion that it had to be real. Of course they were dating. Why was he kidding himself? 

But then he saw North with Juliet’s Nurse, Hana Person in her lap not 20 minutes after the show ended and he’d never been more grateful to see two people make out in his life.

The former Juliet rolled her eyes and replied to Markus, who looked staggered by her actions, clutching at his chest dramatically and swaying into Josh’s startled arms. Josh looked at his casualty in distress and began fanning him immediately, Simon doubling over behind North as his wheezing laugh grew audible even to Connor.

Josh and Simon had also been a part of the show, playing Mercutio and Friar Lawrence respectively. Josh was the only one of the crew that Connor consistently shared classes with, and as far he could tell, Josh was smart. Really smart. Second only to Elijah Kamski in their grades but significantly less of a jerkwad. Science competitions, Math decathlons - you name it, Josh had probably already participated and won. It was insane, and until sophomore year, Connor had thought him a loner. Theatre was magical like that, he guessed. 

Simon Phillips, identical twin brother to Daniel Phillips, was the one he knew the least about, but the general consensus was that he was nice. Willing to loan you money for snacks or spare you a pencil if you needed it. Where Daniel seemed more trendy with his fashion choices (which may have been more the influence of Chloe), Simon dressed for comfort, in warm looking knit sweaters that Connor was also certain he knitted himself. 

Markus recovered from his fainting spell, sparing North a playful scowl as he turned to the wall near them. Connor squinted, leaning out over the back of his chair as he tried to see what Markus was writing. He thought he recognised the text on the sheet… “He’s signing up for the play.”

“I think so? Uh, Connor?” Kara called, and Connor looked back at her, realising that he was already standing a foot away from his chair. He’d moved without thinking, impulse drawing him closer to the board. To Markus. If he signed up, they’d be in the same place. They’d practice together. Have scenes together. Maybe talk? 

Connor didn’t have any illusions that this would work. He wasn’t cool, he wasn’t smooth, and he was probably going to fuck it up as soon as he tried, but-

He really just wanted to talk to him. Properly. For once. 

Connor took a weak breath, looking down at his shoes, then back towards the wall where the group of four were already moving off. “I…” 

“Hey.” Kara’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and he saw that she’d come to join him in staring across the room. She gave him two thumbs up, and a slight shove of encouragement to get him moving. 

His hands were shaking by the time he managed to scribble his name on the sheet just beneath Simon’s, but it was there. He felt equal parts terrified and proud.

Now he just had to survive school until rehearsal that afternoon. 

Rehearsal, where he’d be trapped in a room with Markus for hours and have to not make a fool out of himself.

_...Ahh, shit._


	2. Act ONE: Scene Two - Rad and Frantic Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes to play rehearsal! Markus is at play rehearsal!  
> So are many other people! Oh wait...

When under threat of a zombie hoard descending on your stronghold, it it important to be prepared and have several escape routes plotted and memorised. Adrenaline will trigger the fight or flight response, and a misstep in remembering your route can lead to certain death. It is a benefit to have protection in the form of a weapon, but overall physical fitness can be the most important factor in your escape.

In an apocalyptic scenario, Connor had his bases covered.

“...Jesus, Connor. You look like you’re about to run a marathon.”

This was not the apocalypse.

“I’m fine. I’m cool.” Connor was neither fine nor cool, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans as they stood outside one set of doors for the school’s auditorium. He’d gone straight from his final class with Kara, to their lockers, to _this spot_ and had not moved in the last three minutes. Connor took a breath, rolling his shoulders and reaching a shaky hand to the door, then let his fingers curl in on themselves.

He turned his best puppy eyes on Kara, blinking plaintively.

“Come with me.”

Kara smiled back warmly, trying and failing to fix his hair.

“Not a chance.”

Letting out a sigh, Connor took out his silver dollar, allowing the weight of it to sit in his palm as comfort. Kara, growing impatient, attempted to physically jolt him out of his nerves, bumping his hip with hers. “You’re early. He might not even be there yet.”

“You’re right.” Nodding, Connor began pulsing the coin between his hands, narrowing his focus to the tiny clink it made against his thumbs with each pass. “Maybe I should go home.”

“I’ll give you endless shit if you do. _I know where you live._ ” Kara’s hand pressed insistently at his back, and he took the cue to push through the doors into his fate. As far as Connor was aware, the auditorium didn’t get much use outside of weekly assemblies, pep rallies and performances, but it would make sense that there rehearsals were held in the space if it was available. The house lights were dimmed, and as he scanned the chairs he thought, for a moment, that he was luckily alone.

But there, at the edge of the stage sat a lone figure, his fingers hovering over an open book. Markus had turned to the sound of the door opening, his eyes bright and eager to see who’d entered, and Connor felt caught in the light of his heterochromic gaze.

“So!” Kara chirped brightly, patting his back and breaking him from his trance, “Text me when you’re done!” She offered a wave to Markus as she bounced backward out of the door.

Leaving him alone. With _Markus_.

Markus offered him a small smile, hopping down to the floor with ease. “Hey.”

When the words ‘you’re that guy that ran away this morning’ didn’t follow, Connor took a breath, summoning forth his courage to say, “H-hi.”

Then, overcome with a sudden surge of doubt, he continued with, “Is this where we meet for the play?”

Markus, who’d been closing the distance between them, tilted his head. “No, this is where we meet for gymnastics.” It was clearly a joke, but Connor took a moment to look around the room anyway, so Markus quickly amended. “I’m kidding.”

“Hi kidding, my name is Connor!” he recovered quickly, then immediately regretted letting the dad joke escape when he saw the mild amusement on Markus’ face. “S-sorry.”

Markus’ smile grew gentle, and Connor’s heart fluttered enough to make him concerned for his health. “That’s okay. I’m Markus.” Letting his weight shift for a silent moment, Markus nodded to the door behind Connor. “Was that your girlfriend?”

“Who? Kara? Haha, no. She’s just a friend. Like a sister, really,” Connor laughed, looking down and picking at the edges of his sleeves anxiously. He was talking to Markus and he hadn’t thrown up! This was already a victory.

In his periphery, he saw Markus taking the moment to let his eyes rake over Connor’s face and form subtly. Was there something wrong with his clothes? His t-shirt was a speckled grey and his blue hoodie was a little worn but it wasn’t stained; paired with faded jeans, he thought he’d been at his most average and non-descript that day!

“You...” Markus began, then seemed to think better of it, tongue wetting his lips. “You seem nervous. Is this your first play?”

Connor adjusted his glasses as Markus stepped away to sit in the nearest folding chair, then shook his head to answer the question.

“No! I mean… It’s been few years.”

“Oh, what were you in?”

“W-wizard of Oz? I was the um. Scarecrow…” Connor mumbled, voice weak at the prospect of telling Markus more about his life. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about himself, he was already wasting Markus’ time and the other was being so kind about it.

“A true classic. I’ve always...” Markus took a moment, looking between Connor’s hovering form and the row of empty chairs beside him. “You can sit down, I don’t bite.”

Ignoring the pulse-fluttering thought of Markus actually biting him with his pretty canines, Connor tried to work through the process of sitting down with Markus.

Just sit down?

Did he mean sit right next to him? Connor might combust if he did that, or start shaking so hard that he turned into atomic particulate and dissipated into the substrate of the universe.

What if he sat and Markus _moved away_ from him? He might as well sign himself into the nearest morgue with how mortified he’d be.

Maybe he should sit one chair away? Place his bag on the chair in-between them? Was that normal or too impersonal? What if Markus got offended by that?

“Connor?”

Connor let his body sink into the chair next to Markus with a thin smile that teetered on becoming a grimace. What was _happening_ ? _Holy shit._ He needed to pull himself together.

“Sorry.”

“No worries,” Markus smiled soft with eternal patience, idly fiddling with the tail of a bookmark. Closer now, Connor could see that the thin leather-bound book in his hands was fairly old, with ‘John Keats’ written along the spine. Did Markus like poetry? “It must feel new again, coming back to all this. To tell you the truth, I’m a little envious.”

“Oh?” Markus? Envious of him?

“I love coming here. Really, it’s one of the best things about my day. You know,” Markus sat up, resting a hand on Connor’s shoulder and almost ending his life through a mere touch. He spoke softly like he was sharing a secret, “It can be really stressful coming to school, and I have a lot of feelings at once sometimes, wondering if I’m doing the best to manage the expectations I put on myself. So it’s fun to take myself out of my body and replace it someone else who’s life is already planned. You know who Romeo will love, or how Sweeney Todd will meet his demise. I really think those were two of my greatest roles, despite dying in the end both times. Did you see those? 

“You were amazing,” Connor blurted, forgetting to be shy for a second. Connor thought he knew what it felt like to have Markus’ undivided attention, but here, with their faces less than a foot apart, he couldn’t imagine a world beyond the two of them in this room.

Markus had the decency to look surprised, pulling away and rubbing the back of his head, “Oh, thank you.”

He gave Connor a wry smile, standing and heading to the stage to retrieve his forgotten backpack and slipped the poetry book inside. “Hopefully, I won’t die this time. Oh, another great role was when I played Rum Tum Tugger in my middle school production of CATS. Meow.” Markus voice dipped into a feline purr, and while it may have cute on a 12 year old, the sound was heat seeking missile intent on destroying Connor’s 17 year old sensibilities.

Unaware of Connor’s steadily growing crisis, Markus continued, “I feel like that was really the start of my love for the stage. After that performance my dad bought cupcakes for everyone so it really helped seal the deal for me. This was before I developed a gluten allergy though. Wait, what was I saying?”

So struck was Connor by the image of a tiny Markus eating cake dressed as a cat, that he also wasn’t sure what they were talking about and gave a helpless shrug. “Playing different parts and following a script?”

Markus clapped, glad to have found the thread again, “Right, following directions in the script and knowing how a play ends. It’s like- ” Markus returned to his seat, but sat on the armrest instead, drawing his feet onto the seat. “This is a formative time for us, and so I’m working hard to construct opinions on my own about the current political climate and changing viewpoints in the world. It’s important to be informed. But it’s really relaxing to have things just… work out sometimes. Life doesn’t work like it does on paper. And the thought of doing one thing for the rest of my life is...” Mistaking the wide-eyed awe on Connor’s face for bewilderment, Markus slowed down.

“Let me know if I’m talking too much.”

Connor blinked, forcing himself to participate and not just allow the enthusiastic voice to wash over him. “You’re not…” 

“Are you sure?” When Connor nodded, he sank down with a smile, sitting in the chair with his feet on the ground. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I know how to introduce myself to people, I swear! I guess a part of me just wanted to do that... 

“Really?”

“I try to entertain non-destructive impulses when my brain starts buzzing with too much energy. Like this,” Markus stood, and then proceeded to do a series of arm-flailing moves and a spin that frankly left Connor speechless. He’d never seen anything more crazy beautiful. Satisfied, Markus sat back down, “That’s why my dad wants me to really engage in self-expression! But now I have so many things I like to do. I enjoy painting. Carl, I mean, my dad is a great artist. I also write music. Do you like music?”

“Um. Yes!” Connor replied, barely collecting himself.

“I really think that music preferences can say a lot about a person. I don’t know what it says about me, since I’ll listen to anything. Right now, I’m listening to musical cast albums. What about you?”

Connor hesitated, but if Markus would give anything a shot... “Metal? Heavy. Metal. My dad likes Knights of the Black Death s-so I grew up listening to them and going to their concerts.”

Markus nodded, reaching into his pants pocket, “I’ve never gone into metal. I’ll have to check them out. Thank you!” Pulling his phone out, Connor watched with some disbelief as Markus pulled up the artist page for the band and bookmarked it. “Have a favourite song?”

For the first time in five minutes, Connor felt himself relax, “I think ‘New World Martyr’. It’s got this bassline...”

However, before Connor could expound on the progressive metal choices of the band’s latest album, the door on the far side of the room clattered open. Both boys startled to their feet as Rose Chapman, English teacher extraordinaire and leader of the theatre group entered with a stack of papers under her arm. 

“My fellow thespians!” Rose greeted, handing the bundle over to Markus who’d rushed up to help.

“Hi, Ms. Chapman.” Connor wasn’t as quick to react, but joined them at the corner of the stage.

“Hello, Connor! Nice of you to join us.” Her smile turned to the room at large, but she seemed surprised to not see more students. “Markus, where’s your little group?”

Papers secure on the stage, Markus spun around and began counting off with his fingers. One. “Well, Simon pulled a hamstring in gym class so badly that he had to go to the nurse. His mom picked him up early.” 

Rose clucked her tongue in sympathy, “Poor thing.”

Two. “Josh was using his free period to tutor history and chemistry so he’ll be late.”

Their teacher appeared less impressed, “So gallant.”

Three. “And North is getting pretty serious about softball, so she didn’t sign up.”

“What?” Rose seemed devastated, bracing herself on the edge of the stage while Markus dipped his head in despair.“I’ve lost a leading lady to a sports team? This is a tragedy. A travesty!" Connor was completely lost, but sensed that he now had more of an idea of what the talk he’d witnessed at lunch had been about. "I need an antacid.” As Rose made her way backstage, a few sheets were presented to Connor by Markus, the words 'A Midsummer Night’sMARE' on the cover page. 

The sorrow Markus he'd displayed to their teacher was nowhere to be seen, and he leaned in to whisper, “North doesn’t want a repeat of the last show. She was a great Juliet! But I think if she ever has to stage kiss anyone again, she’ll jump out a window.” Markus began to flip through his own script, brows furrowing as he concentrated on the pages. “Our membership has been dwindling anyway, so it’s might just be you and me for a while!”

Connor didn’t have time to sweat at the prospect before a group of students burst into the auditorium, led by popular kids he’d rather not be forced to interact with. But Chloe and Daniel were quickly making themselves comfortable, Gavin was already grinning and watching Connor in a way that made him uncomfortable. And Elijah was…

Looking at Markus?  

“Ah! More students, thank goodness.” Rose returned, and when the last of the students filtered into their seats, she began. “Now, I’m sure most of us know each other. Still, I’m Mrs. Chapman, your English and Literature teacher. Some of you may recognise me from my stall at the farmer’s market?”

“You got great tomatoes, Mrs. C!” Gavin chimed in, and Rose smiled, flattered.

“Thank you. Now I know that many of you are here because performing this play is a option to taking the upcoming midterm exam on Shakespearean literature. Now,” she hushed the growing murmurs among those who’d come for that explicit reason, “since we have a limited time, this will be an abridged version of a Midsummer Night’s Dream, dressed up in the halloween spirit! You’ll receive additional time during my class over the next weeks to study the play.”

“Nice!” Gavin whispered loudly to Elijah, and Connor just caught the end of an eye-roll from Markus at his side.  

Rose distributed the papers among the students, letting them glance through the character list and first few pages. “Character choices are 'first come, first serve'. Gender is not important, but you will be reorganised if you aren’t pulling your weight. Everyone clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Chapman.”

“We’ll begin the cold read!”

Josh was in fact late to the rehearsal, and joined them partway through the reading, but well before any final casting choices had been declared. By it time it was over, Connor had been cast as Puck, and as much as he’d hate to admit it, he’d had _fun_ playing in the sandbox of Shakespeare with these people who were not his friends.

Well, mostly.

Markus hadn’t been wrong about slipping into someone else’s world for a bit, but Connor had truly forgotten what it was like. Now, Connor sought out the other boy, smiling as he saw him packing up quietly, and began making his way over while planning what to say. They’d been talking about music earlier, maybe he could ask about he’d been listening to and they could follow each other on social media? They’d have a reason to text, get to know each other and Connor could eventually ask him out.

Or he would have done that, if Elijah Kamski hadn’t gotten over there first.

“You were Romeo. In the play last year.”

Markus seemed stunned when he saw who he was being spoken to by, then smiled at Elijah politely. It was a look not dissimilar to how he’d greeted Connor initially, and Connor felt a anxious twisting at the top of his stomach. “I was.”

“It was very… emotional. When you died.”

“...Thanks?” Connor wasn’t comforted knowing that Markus had a general inability to take compliments on his acting. Most of the other students had left; the only ones remaining were them and Josh, who was speaking to Mrs. Chapman on the opposite end of the room.

“I’m Elijah.” 

“I know who you are… Sorry, Markus.” Markus laughed at himself, shaking Elijah’s proffered hand sheepishly. Kamski covered the hand he now held, keeping Markus in his grasp. 

“Forgive me if I’m not being too forward, but your performance was truly something impressive. I was so… moved, by your devotion to Juliet. Everything I’d thought I knew, my drive to be the best in most things felt... small in comparison to Romeo’s intensity. I could only think of how the person behind him must be equally as passionate and how much  I wanted to know them better.” Then, as if suddenly noticing, Kamski let their hands fall, looking around with a shyness that wasn’t close to genuine. “I must sound so silly.”

“That’s not… silly at all.” Markus said, his voice softer than Elijah deserved. The tall presence of Josh appeared behind Markus, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange curiously. Connor stared down into his bag when felt Josh’s eyes shift over to him, and after a beat, he went back to checking on Markus and Elijah. He pretended to keep himself busy, digging through his bag for nothing except a place to hide the growing tremors in his hands. Markus had been so collected with Connor earlier. Why was he responding this way to Elijah Kamski? Was it because he was popular? Or rich? Did he… did Markus…?

Elijah smirked, drawing closer to Markus, “A few of us are going out on the weekend. You should come. After all, parting is such sweet sorrow.” Phones were exchanged, and Connor felt sick as he saw the self-satisfied smile on Kamski as he walked through the door.

That was a major wrinkle in the plan. But he could still do this. He just had to go over to Markus, take a breath and say, “So, did you have any specific music that you wanted me to-”

“I’m sorry, Connor. What was that?” Markus said, turning to Connor with more of a delay than he meant too. He’d been clearly taken aback by what had happened with Kamski, but the dazed and flustered look he wore made it too obvious to ignore. Connor couldn’t get the words out - all he wanted to do was leave and try not to sink so deeply into regret that he broke down.

“Nothing! Never mind. See you later.” Connor ducked away, ignoring Markus’ call of his name as he fled, down the hall and hid away in the bathroom.

The cold water was kind against the frustrated heat on his face, and he sighed into the mirror, drawing his bag from his shoulders and glaring at the letters across the front. He began attempting to remove the unwanted graffiti, wondering what he’d been thinking by going to the rehearsal at all.

Yeah, Markus had spoken to him, but Markus hadn’t even been aware of him before that afternoon. Of course he’d be more impressed by a popular guy talking to him - a guy who was a total jerk, by the way! And not impressed by Connor.

The bathroom door clicked open, but Connor ignored it and just scrubbed harder, pouring his disappointments into the efforts of his hands. Who the fuck was Connor, anyway? No one would pay attention to him in here.

No one except for-

“Well, _lookie her_ e! Thought I told you not to wash that off.”

_Perfect..._

**Author's Note:**

> Baby steps, Connor.


End file.
